


An Unwanted Reminder

by nekocrouton



Category: Left 4 Dead 2
Genre: Drug Use, Drugs, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4430960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekocrouton/pseuds/nekocrouton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick hates seeing those adrenaline shots because they remind him of worse times.  A little something that popped in my head at 6:30am and I just had to get out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unwanted Reminder

Nick didn’t like seeing those adrenaline shots.

 

Every time he saw one in passing, or one of his teammates picked one up, he was reminded of moments in the past. Times when he had locked himself into a grimy bar bathroom, perched on a toilet seat as his belt was wrapped around his upper arm and a needle pricked his skin. And then tilting his head back while he pushed the plunger of the syringe down, feeling the exhilarating rush as he released the illicit chemicals into his bloodstream.

 

He knew that the little auto-injectors were meant to save lives, but whenever he happened to catch a glimpse of one, he was brought back to times when he had drugs pumping through his veins on a nightly basis. Nights where he’d ended up in bed with someone that he’d picked up from _god_ knows where, or he’d found himself slumped over in a dark back alley somewhere, nursing a black eye and not knowing _how_ in the hell he even got it. No matter which scenario played out the night before, by morning he’d usually be stripped of _every_ bit of whatever cash he’d had left over. He’d curse himself every time it happened, but somehow, he _just_ didn’t learn. The siren song of the drugs was much too sweet for him to resist.

 

Every time someone uncapped the top of one of the plastic syringes, he recalled the uncontrollable nausea and vomiting that came along with withdrawal. Times when he felt _so_ goddamn miserable that he had no choice but to get back out and get his next fix, even if he _was_ dry heaving. That often meant he had to resort to petty thievery in order to get the cash for it, since there was no way in hell he could con someone while he felt like such _shit._    But once he’d managed to round up enough to get a hit and he was feeling somewhat _normal_ , he’d fall back into his usual schemes to try and build up a supply of money. Although somehow, things never went the way that he had planned, and he would usually manage to only get _just_ enough money for that night’s dose, and if he was lucky, maybe a little extra to buy a shot of whiskey.

 

Nick was long sober now, only doing more _legal_ substances such as drinking booze or smoking cigarettes, although that stuff was pretty hard to come by once the world went to shit. But he still couldn’t help but narrowing his eyes at those adrenaline shots whenever he came across one, the cylindrical shape reminding him of darker, more desperate times. He often pondered just using _one_ , just to feel that rush into his bloodstream once again, even if it _wasn’t_ his drug of choice. But he always decided against it. It wasn’t worth it, even despite the hell that he was living through now. He had finally learned his lesson some time ago, and he didn’t want to revert back to those times, _ever_.


End file.
